


Soul to Squeeze

by iamtheletter13



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Frottage, Implied Somnophilia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, One-Sided Relationship, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtheletter13/pseuds/iamtheletter13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England doesn't want for Sealand to have anything to do with Russia, and for good reason, but the small would-be nation is hungry for acceptance, even if it comes at a dire cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as a cute little drabble on FF, but the plot took me to a dark place, and I just knew I would be banned if I posted every horrible detail on there, so... Read at your own risk.

Sealand sat next to Russia on purpose. Ivan didn't seem to notice him, wearing his usual smile and staring off into space. The violet-eyed man was terrifying to the blond, so he sat far enough away to be safe, but close enough to examine the stranger, swinging his legs because his feet didn't quite reach the floor. Peter could hear a sharp voice calling an end to the meeting, but his orbs were locked on Ivan's unblinking eye. The small country was surprised at how many speckles of silver were glistening through the purple, awed by it, his mouth hanging open against his will.

He was jerked out of his thoughts when Russia stood, his attention stolen by China. The raven-haired country was jabbering on and on, probably about nothing, the rest of their company filing out of the room. Sealand stayed behind, determined to face his fear once and for all by speaking with Russia. He couldn't have been as bad as he was first told, not if the most aggressive thing he had done the entire time Peter had known him was smile.

"E-excuse me…" The blond tugged on Ivan's coat, gathering both the attention of him and his companion. Both men stared down at Sealand, China with a look of surprise, and Ivan with polite interest.

Peter wanted to talk. He wanted so badly to ask Russia a simple question like his favorite color, or what his worst fear was, but there was a lump in his throat. Yao ruffled the youngest male's hair and turned to leave after a moment of silence, waving on his way out. Russia looked as though he was considering, his lips a thin, unreadable line.

"You were going to ask me something?" The silver-haired man finally inquired, looking straight into Sealand's eyes. The blonde's mouth went dry and his pulse was suddenly the only noise in the room.

"U-um… yeah, I was just… Just g-gonna ask you a…" He was trembling, staring at the space between his feet and kneading the hem of his shirt. He glanced up, jumping when Ivan's smiling face was eye-level with his own. Even crouching the way he was, Russia was still so much bigger than Sealand, but he had lessened the teen's worry.

"Ask anything you like. I try to be open with my fellow countries." Ivan said in a soft, kind tone that made something hurt in the pit of Sealand's stomach.

"Y-you called me a country…" Peter said, turning red.

"Of course." Russia stood and planted his massive hand on the blonde's shoulder. There wasn't anything but the subtle scratch of the man's glove on the side of his neck and heavy pressure, warm tingling spreading out from the contact.

"I'm excited for when you're big enough for us to become friends." Ivan said, smiling down at Peter, then left, the teen swaying back and forth in his spot, dizzy with the confusing rush of emotions. Russia was decidedly less scary than he had been, even if he did reek of booze up-close.


	2. Convenience

“What did you do today?” England asked while he was driving Sealand home from the meeting, smiling over at the pseudo-country. Peter grinned up at his elder, eyes bright.  
“I spoke to Russia. It was scary at first, but he was really nice.” At that, England paled considerably, eyes widening with horror.  
“Wh-what did he tell you?” Arthur tried, swallowing thickly.  
“That he’s excited for me to get big enough for us to be friends. Why?” Peter was confused, eyebrows furrowed.  
“Don’t talk to him anymore, alright? He’s dangero-“  
“He is not! You keep telling me how bad Ivan is, but you won’t ever tell me why I should avoid him! I think you’re just jealous!” The smaller blond said, tearing up. Arthur gawked, staring ahead of him so that he wouldn’t glare at the male next to him.  
“J-jealous? Of what? All that creep has is a scarf a-and a big chunk of ice to call home!” The older nation snapped in reply. The rest of the ride was spent in tense silence.  
The minute Sealand was safe and England was home, he went to the phone, massaging his temples. It took him a moment to dial the number, but he finally mustered the courage, hearing Lithuania’s soft voice on the other line.  
“H-hello, it’s Arthur. I was hoping to speak with Ivan.” The Brit said, and there was a rustle then muffled speech.  
“It’s great to hear from you.” It was Russia’s voice on the other line, and England didn’t know why he suddenly felt like a child under scrutiny.  
“Uh… Sealand was talking to me today. He… said he spoke with you.” England said, sounding just as nervous as he was.  
“Da. He’s a sweet boy.” The larger nation answered, without a hitch.  
“See, there’s the thing… I would really appreciate if… if you stayed away from him. Uh… P-please.” There was a gentle laugh on the other line.  
“Hm, nyet. I like Peter. I think I’ll keep him.” Ivan said, hanging up the phone. England stared at the wall before him, mortified.  
Arthur tried America first. He laughed and asked if he needed a bow to put on Sealand when he handed him over to Ivan. He then tried Germany, who’d had a bit more experience with the silver-haired psychopath. Ludwig expressed his sorrow for the lost country. Not even China was any help, the raven changing the subject every time England tried to ask for advice. By the end of the day, he was exhausted, collapsing in bed and glaring at the wall. From what he had heard, the only way to keep Sealand out of Russia’s hands would be to incur his wrath, and England had done that already, having to drag himself back into Ivan’s good graces through some painful favors.  
As much as he whined about Peter, England was rather fond of him. He reminded him of a young America; so determined to become strong. It made the world seem a little brighter, England seeing him as a little brother. He couldn’t just let Russia take him, not after Arthur had seen what Russia had done to Lithuania. Struggling over to the phone, England dialed Sealand’s number.  
“Hello?” The teen answered.  
“Hey, Peter? I… I don’t think you should come to the meeting tomorrow.” Arthur tried.  
“Why not?!” There was childish whining in the smaller nation’s tone.  
“Because I said so! If I see you there, I’ll drive you right home!” The other male answered sternly.  
“Y-you can be such a Nazi sometimes!” Peter answered before handing up. England realized he had probably made it worse.  
The next morning, England made sure he showed up earlier than he usually did, just in case Sealand wanted to try and sneak in. He was sipping on a cup of tea in an attempt to get his eyelids to stop drooping, not having slept very well the night before. He watched, in a sleepy haze, as all of the nations filed in, one-by-one. He was both relieved and surprised not to see Ivan there, though his relief turned to suspicion when he didn’t see Peter’s blond head poking over the table.  
He tried not to worry about it, though it kept interrupting his thoughts throughout the meeting, and Arthur hadn’t said much. He was anxious to get home, to check on Sealand, make sure he was still pouting at his house like Arthur expected him to be. When he was finally let go, the Brit rushed to Peter’s, smiling as he climbed the ladder up to Sealand’s small home.  
“Hey, yo-“ He stopped when he realized that nobody was there, a rather eerie silence haven fallen over the usually lively building. Russia had Sealand.


	3. Fading

Ivan smiled over at Sealand, who looked rather tired. The blond had spent the night at Ivan’s house, watching movies and chattering on and on about nothing while his company smiled and nodded occasionally. Peter wasn’t really sure what to think of Russia. He was nice, always polite and took Sealand seriously, unlike the other countries, who all saw Peter as some kind of useless child. On the other hand, Sealand wasn’t an idiot, and knew that if everyone was so insistent on him keeping his distance from the violet-eyed man, he had to heed it.  
“Breakfast was really good. Better than anything England ever makes me.” Sealand said with a meek giggle, catching the other male’s eye contact.  
“You shouldn’t be too hard on him. He tries.” Ivan replied, turning towards the road again.  
“S-so you’re taking me home, right?” The blond suddenly tried, and Russia shook his head.  
“We have a meeting today. I’m going to see if I can get the other countries to recognize you.” The taller male said, and Sealand visibly brightened.  
“R-really?! You would do that for me?!” Peter asked, voice filled with childish excitement.  
“Da. I see no reason not to.”  
Sealand sat next to Russia at the meeting. He was smiling giddily, legs swinging as he waited. Germany announced the start of the meeting, America said something ridiculous, and the bickering began. Russia waited patiently for an opening, wearing his usual pleasant expression.  
“I would like to suggest something.” Ivan interrupted, and there was an eerie silence suddenly, every eye on the silver-haired man.  
“I think we should recognize Sealand as a country.” He motioned to the blond beside him, the others looking towards the boy as though he hadn’t even existed until Russia pointed him out.  
“That sounds like a good idea.” Canada said softly, giving Sealand and Russia a faint smile. The bear in his arms looked up, confused.  
“Who are you?” The bear asked.  
“I’m Canada…”  
England looked up from the piece of paper he had been scribbling on. Sealand was right there, looking perfectly contented. He shot to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at Ivan.  
“You bastard! Give him back!” Arthur shouted, America looking from him to Russia to Sealand, then back, amused.  
“Give who back? I didn’t realize I possessed your property, Arthur.” Ivan replied with a flat frown, bafflement flashing in his eyes.  
“Why do you want him to become a country, anyway?” There was a dark smile from the Russian, one Arthur knew all-too-well. Sealand didn’t seem to notice, cowering behind the large nation, one hand grabbing tightly onto his light tan coat, peeking out from behind him and at England’s angry features.  
“Peter wants to be a country. Don’t you?” Russia looked at the boy shaking behind him, resulting in a timid nod.  
“Yes, that’s all I really want.” Sealand said, voice sure despite his apparent fear.  
“See? I think it would be cruel to say no.” Russia reasoned.  
England knew better than to trust Ivan. He never did anything unless it would help him in the future, never acted kindly towards someone unless he wanted something from them. It was hardly a secret, but then there was poor Sealand, with his dive and his sparkling blue eyes and the pout he had, unsure if he would actually be recognized. Despite himself, the Brit bowed his head, staring at the table, defeated.  
“I see nothing wrong with Sealand becoming a county.” France said, his tone as sultry as ever. There was a chorus of agreement.  
“That’s settled, then. Anybody opposed to it?” America took the reins, standing, hands on his hips. When there wasn’t an answer, his smile turned to a grin.  
“Congratulations, Peter! You’re a country now.”  
At the end of the meeting, Russia stood, not addressing Sealand, who was following behind him like a duckling trailing after their parent. England rushed towards them, stopping before Ivan, teeth bared.  
“Oh, hello, Arthur. Did you need something?” Ivan asked, looking surprised to see the Brit. Arthur was not fooled.  
“He just turned sixteen, you sicko!” England exclaimed angrily, gathering the attention of the few countries still left in the room.  
“What?” The taller man looked genuinely baffled, eyes wide.  
“You took him somewhere yesterday. Where?!” He shouted, and Ivan gave an annoyed frown.  
“I did nothing. He showed up at my door, asking if he could stay. It was out of nowhere, but not unwelcome. He is very bright.” Was Russia’s calm reply, the violet-eyed male smiling again.  
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew where he was.” He said, staring at the floor out of shame. Arthur looked taken aback, then enraged, turning to the blond, who had taken to cowering behind Ivan again.  
“I specifically told you not to talk to him, and you went to his house?! Wh-what kind of obedience is that?!” England shouted at the teen, Sealand backing away from Russia, almost tripping over one of the chairs.  
“We’re going home right now.” The older country growled, grabbing Peter by the ear and dragging him towards the door. There was snickering, Sealand’s grunting and protests, then silence.  
Sealand was taken to England’s house, sat at the kitchen table while Arthur paced, trying to think of what to say, how to convince the teen not to associate with Russia anymore. He stopped suddenly, pulling the chair out from the table with a screech and sitting down across from Peter. His features were serious, a hand running through his hair out of exasperation.  
“Do you know why I don’t want you to talk to him?” He asked, the smaller nation shaking his head.  
“There… There are really bad people in this world, who do really bad things. They don’t look like monsters, they-“  
“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child. What did Ivan do?” There was the spark of defiance, the energy, Peter’s strong personality showing through. He had crossed his arms over his chest.  
England couldn’t tell Sealand because he had no proof. He had heard things, terrible things, but nobody would give him a straight answer about the details. It was infuriating, but the most he had gotten was that every country that worked under Ivan was never the same after, with the occasional story, like the time Russia had given Lithuania a black eye for not dusting properly. Sealand was much too small to handle such harsh treatment.  
“Just… Can you trust me? This once? Please.”   
Sealand went to Russia’s the minute he left England’s.


	4. Appeal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first smut chapter. It's absolutely shameless, and a lot more vulgar than what I'm used to writing. If Hell exists...

Ivan was sitting in an armchair before the fire, an empty vodka bottle hanging rather precariously between his hand and the outside of the chair. It slid from his grasp, landing with a dull thump on the ornate rug in the middle of the room. His scarf had been discarded, his coat hanging off the back of the chair he was in, the tail of it crumpled on the floor. There was a timid knock at his door, the silver-haired man lacking in the energy to stand and answer it.  
"Come in!" He ordered of whoever was on the other side, hoping it wasn't someone obnoxious.   
"I-Ivan?" Peter's small voice called from down the hall, the Russian grunting in response. He wasn't in the mood for company, especially someone as chatty as Sealand.  
The blond slowly walked into the massive house, his breath leaving his mouth in a puff of condensation. He shuffled nervously into the only room with light, swallowing at the back of Russia’s chair. He settled in one of the other chairs, a sharp violet gaze moving towards him.  
"What?" Ivan asked, so unlike his usual self it made Peter jump.  
"W-well... I just w-wanted to say how grateful I am for... for what you did today." Sealand responded in a slightly squeaky voice that made the taller male sit up straighter. He tilted his head, then gave a smile that was filled with nothing but malice. Pete shuffled backwards, away from the other male.  
"It is what friends do." He said with a wink, bringing the bottle that had been on the floor to his lips. He scowled when nothing came out, discarding it again.  
"No, I need to do something for you, i-in return." Peter said, almost as a protest. There was a stubborn expression on his face.  
"What can you offer me?" Russia tried, not about to deny the blond.  
"I-I know I really can't give much, but..." Peter bit his lip, Ivan furrowing his eyebrows.  
"You can have me." He offered, in one breath, afraid that he wasn't going to be able to voice it.  
There was a thick silence, heavy and terrifying to Peter, who had taken to kneading the hem of his shirt. Ivan was looking him over, Sealand could feel it, the tingle of the Russian's eyes registering on his skin. Ivan laughed. It was sudden, the blond not expecting it, but he looked almost in tears by the end of it.  
"You could not handle me, Peter. I would break you." Ivan said after a moment of calm chuckling.  
"But tell me, did you give yourself to me because you wanted to pay me back, or because you like me?" He leaned forward in his chair, and even though there was a table between them, Sealand felt cornered.  
"I don’t… I mean, I do, but… I-it’s just to pay you back, and I don’t have any money, or-"  
"Come here." Ivan interrupted Sealand's ranting, the blond turning red and slowly moving out of his seat and towards the Russian.  
The moment Peter was in Ivan's reach, he was suddenly pulled onto his lap, the closeness making Sealand dizzy. He breathed the man's scent in, felt hands on the subtle curve of his waist, shuddered when he felt warm breath on his neck, tickling under his shirt collar.  
"A-are you drunk?" Peter asked, a shaking hand finding its way into Ivan's hair. He could smell it on his skin.  
"Da." The Russian responded easily, touching the exposed strip of skin at Sealand's waist, inching his shirt upwards.   
"Would you like some?" There was an unopened bottle on the side-table that had separated the two before, and Ivan took it, unscrewing the lid and offering it to Peter, who sniffed, his nose scrunching up.  
"N-no thanks. Alcohol tastes bad." He responded in a more innocent fashion than he intended. Ivan growled despite himself, and the blond took the bottle without further protest, downing a large gulp.  
It took Sealand almost a whole minute to recover, coughing into his hand, the taste lingering in his mouth no matter how many times he swallowed. Ivan caught his chin, forced his face upwards, and captured his lips. Peter melted, not minding the taste so much when it was on the tongue he was insisting be let into his mouth, the foreign, wet muscle. He moaned into the kiss, warmth falling over him. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the hand that was exploring his chest oh-so-slowly. The shirt he had been wearing was held up by the silver-haired man's hand, a bundle of wrinkled fabric at the blonde's neck. Peter tore himself away from the kiss to yank his shirt off, panting raggedly.  
"You s-said you'd break me. What does that mean?" Peter suddenly spoke up, worry on his flushed face. Ivan kissed his collar bone as a distraction.   
"It doesn't matter." The Russian said, standing from his seat and moving over to the sofa at the other end of the room, a bit closer to the warmth of the fire.   
He laid over the considerably smaller nation, latching his mouth to one of Peter's nipples. It resulted in a loud moan, an arched back, writhing hips; he was a bit more responsive than Ivan had first assumed. He looked up at the blond, flicking his tongue quickly, two small hands tightening in his hair.  
"Have you ever done this?" The taller of the two asked, going right back to his task and relishing the squeak Sealand made.  
"N-not really. Arthur t-touches me sometimes in his s-sleep if I sneak in there." Ivan's gaze snapped up and he gawked, Peter looking ashamed for admitting it.  
"Never anything like this, just, like..." He slid down the couch, wrapping his legs around Ivan's waist and lifting his hips to grind on him. The Russian grunted, his hips jerking right back.  
"S-sometimes I'm on my stomach, th-though." There was no way Sealand could have turned around with Ivan on top of him, the man flushed the same shade of scarlet that he was. They were moving against each other, Ivan's expression almost pained.  
"So... you are pure?" Ivan asked in a strained voice, Peter nodding.   
"M-my mouth, too." Ivan grunted, the combination of the teen's words and his constant motion almost too much.  
"You're bigger th-than Arthur." Peter gasped, reaching between them to struggle with the binding to the older male's pants. His hand was smacked away, his hips shoved down. Sealand worked on his shorts instead, struggling to slide them off without having to break the delicious contact.  
"You're so eager... I won’t fuck you tonight, though." Ivan said, Peter whining unhappily, even though the older male knew how painful it would be.  
"I'll make you feel good, da?" He pulled away, taking Sealand's shorts with him. The blond was panting raggedly, so open and needy it made Ivan ache. He had a moral obligation, though, and he couldn't just use Sealand the way he was suggesting. He didn't realize how terrible what he was already doing was.  
The silver-haired man moved to Sealand's other nipple, nibbling softly on the pink nub. His hands found Peter's thighs, parting them so the blond would have the opportunity to grind against his chest while he was being teased. Sealand did just that, his eyes tightly shut, head thrown back, mouth wide open.   
"I-I need you, please..." Peter begged through cracked moans, Ivan simply moving lower. There was less contact, the blond whining his disappointment before suddenly crying out. The Russian had taken Sealand into his mouth, bobbing all the way down on him.  
"Ivan! Ah! I-I need you, p-please..." Peter attempted again, trying to buck up into the tight heat.  
"I-I want y-you so bad, I c-can't stand it..." Ivan pulled up with a wet pop, his eyes meeting the smaller nation's lusty gaze.  
"If you keep begging, I will fuck you dry." The Russian warned with a low growl that shot right to Peter's groin.  
Sealand went still, and Ivan leaned down and started his ministrations again, nothing but sharp gasps leaving the blonde's mouth. Peter finished quickly. Ivan was glad for it, swallowing smoothly and sitting on his heels. The blonde's chest was heaving, his eyes closed and mouth still hanging open with the residual bliss. When he had caught his breath, he pried his eyes open, looking up at Ivan with a look of admiration, almost love. The older male was disgusted by it, but refused to let it show.  
"Th-that felt amazing. Do you want me to return the favor?" Peter asked, though he looked tired.  
"No. Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?" The man offered, standing, grabbing every item of discarded clothing, and making for the stairs.  
"Really? Could I?" Sealand perked up, standing from the couch, apparently lacking in modesty. He didn't seem all that tired suddenly.   
Russia slowly staggered up the stairs, Sealand on his heels. He let his door swing open, kicked off his shoes, and climbed into the large, ornate bed, followed immediately by Peter, who snuggled up to Ivan's side. The silver-haired man sighed and rolled towards him, pulling him into a warm embrace.  
Sealand had never felt more protected. The larger nation was big and strong and warm, like a bear, initially scary but less-so when he was drowsy. The teen scooted closer, feeling the older male's still-present arousal on his thigh. His face brightened, and he rubbed at it with his bare leg.  
"What are you doing?" Ivan asked, sounding unamused.  
"I should t-take care of that." He responded, rolling over and grinding back on him, delighted when the Russian moved forward against him.  
"You are a whore." Ivan huffed, pinning Sealand to the bed, on his stomach, the boy rutting rather whorishly, like he wanted it.  
"N-no, I'm a v-virgin." He protested, wishing Ivan would ignore whatever it was keeping him from going through with it.  
The man undid the bindings to his pants and moved them down his legs, to the middle of his thighs. Peter felt his arousal against his bare skin, so close, one of his wrists pinned to the sheets. It would have been dry if he attempted an actual fuck, and the thought made Peter tense up, remembering the Russian's warning.   
"B-be gentle, please." He added in a shaking tone, closing his eyes and biting onto the pillow before him, letting out a depraved moan when Ivan started slowly rocking his hips, grinding against the blonde's pert ass.  
"I'm not fucking you tonight. Use your mouth instead, if you want to make me come so badly." He rolled onto his back, and Peter was immediately on top of him, his smaller cock hard and leaking, just from what little touching they had done. He trailed down, grasping Russia's girth - which was rather intimidating - with both hands to stroke him, then flicked his tongue out to catch a bead of precome.  
Ivan watched with a flushed face, Peter parting his lips and bobbing as low as his inexperienced mouth would let him, managing to meet the top of his hand, to that Ivan was enveloped in heat.  
"That's good. Use your tongue." Sealand obeyed, running the wet muscle along the underside of the man's organ as he pulled back then went down again, moaning occasionally. The wet sounds he was making didn't help in the least, the Russian having to hold back the urge to push the boy down on him.  
Sealand pulled up for air, panting.  
"I-it kinda hurts not to touch myself, but I don't want to hurt you on accident." He was quickly stroking Ivan, hand wet with saliva.  
Ivan forced his head back down, making him gasp with surprise, but he obeyed the silent demand, working faster. Russia had thrown his head back, hissing through his teeth before looking back down to watch Peter's lips pulled tight around him, his eyes filled with tears from the strain.  
Sealand pulled one hand away and started bobbing lower, face screwed up in concentration. When Ivan was nestled in his throat, the tight heat pulsating around him, he fell back again. Peter reached a hand between his own legs, groping himself desperately and starting at a brisk pace.  
Sealand came not moments later, moaning loudly around Ivan, the sound bringing the man to the brink after him. Peter pulled up and coughed wetly, Ivan sitting up to brush his thumb over the blonde's cheek. The sight of the panting teen, come dribbling down his chin and to his neck, was almost enough to make Ivan ravage him, regardless of his promise. He wiped his release off of Peter's chin with the corner of the sheet, smiling pleasantly down at him. The boy clung to the Russian, managing to pull him into a laying position next to him, falling almost immediately to sleep.


End file.
